


Oblivion

by ferix79



Series: Nightmares [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Character Death In Dream, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Ryoma feeling helpless, Sleepy Cuddles, sleep paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6882856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferix79/pseuds/ferix79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryoma dreams of triumph, but is powerless at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> My fic for Ryoumarx day 3, and the 3rd part of my Nightmares series.

Ryoma dreamt of triumph, that their group had righteously defeated the enemy, but when his eyes fell upon Elise, limp and motionless on the floor, his confidence was shaken. His world traveled in slow motion as he turned, the dull fires lighting the castle hall blurring together in a dizzying dance of color. When his vision focused again, he stepped back, recoiling in disbelief.

Corrin stood, sword raised and ready to strike, across from Xander, who was slumped dangerously low on his horse. What was the meaning of this? They had resolved their differences after the war, fought tooth and nail, side by side to save their world and unite their nations. This was no friendly sparring match; Corrin’s Noble Yato was already streaked with blood—his stomach twisted at the thought of who it belonged to. With one more strike, Xander was in danger of—

He was too late. Or perhaps he had never really tried? With a flourish and a slash Xander was thrown from his horse. Ryoma watched in horror as the other man actually skid a few feet after hitting the ground, and then only laid still.

Though he tried, Ryoma could not look away from Xander’s body splayed out on the stone, nor could he move his feet to bring him closer to his lover. He was paralyzed, forced to watch the man he spent so long building a relationship with die right in front of him.

From his side, Azura rushed forward. He watched as the anger faded from Corrin’s eyes and they cast the Yato aside, falling to Xander’s feet. What madness was this? They had just nearly killed the man, and _now_ they regretted it? Corrin and Azura hauled Xander up by his arms and slowly dragged him over to the opposite side of the room, leaning him against the wall so he could sit up.

Corrin crouched in front of Xander, speaking quietly to the dying man, but within seconds they were reduced to a crying, screaming mess. Azura, who stood to the side, her hands clutched at her chest, did nothing.

Xander, though, was a different story. Despite the pain, the man had found it in him to smile in his last moments to bring comfort to his younger sibling. The sight of it brought tears to Ryoma’s eyes. 

But all he could do was watch, as Xander tried to talk Corrin down from the hysterical fit they seemed to be in; watch, as coughs wracked his weakened frame and every breath become harder to draw; watch, as the light faded from Xander’s eyes and he slumped forward, unmoving.  

At least he died with a smile on his face. Ryoma’s body still refused to move. He had done nothing.

After Xander passed on, Azura crouched down and helped Corrin up, leading them away from their older brother. Once they found the will, Corrin ran straight to him and buried their face in his chest. Instinctively, his arms came up to their shoulders, holding tight as they cried against his bloodstained armor. Ryoma’s eyes still couldn’t leave Xander—Xander’s corpse—slumped against the wall on the other side of the room.

Ryoma’s eyes flew open as he jerked awake, reaching to his side where he knew Xander would be soundly asleep next to him. It was just a dream; he rationalized with himself, trying to calm down—just a bad dream that was not at all real.

He expected to feel Xander’s skin under his fingertips, but felt nothing. Didn’t he sit up just a moment ago? He had reached over to wrap an arm around his lover, or at least he had told his brain to. Glancing down, however, he found himself still lying flat against the bed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but could not muster any sound. He tried two, three times more, but still, his voice was lost.

Deep breaths, then. Deep breaths he could do. Deep breaths like when he meditated alone, trying to find calm in their chaotic world. He inhaled, relief flowing through him as his lungs expanded, until they stopped. Just, stopped. No matter how hard he fought internally, his lungs refused to take on more air. They weren’t very privy on exhaling, either, and Ryoma was soon reduced to short, shallow breaths.

Someone was suffocating him—it was the only answer. There was pressure on his chest, but nothing there, but someone was suffocating him and he could do nothing to fight them except fall into panic. He had just watched Xander die—the thought sent his mind reeling—was he next?

It was the sound of his bed partner hyperventilating that woke Xander.

In hindsight, he probably could have woken Ryoma a little more gently, but seeing the man lying stalk still, eyes wide open and obviously struggling to breathe had given him quite the fright.

“Ryoma!” He exclaimed, hastily pulling himself up next to the other man and grabbing hold of his shoulder. A firm shake did nothing, so Xander put himself in Ryoma’s line of sight and placed a hand on his cheek, “Ryoma, please, tell me what’s wrong!”

Ryoma barely felt the hand on his shoulder, but the shock of something touching his cheek combined with the face of his previously dead lover entering his vision finally startled him into motion. Finally regaining control, his hand flew up and latched onto Xander’s bicep. The other man was real, definitely real.

The panic was beginning to ebb away, breaths becoming easier. He could see Xander’s mouth moving, his eyebrows knitting together in concern, but the words went over his head. In the end, he was left with bone deep exhaustion.

Xander seemed to have given up the whole talking thing. That was fine with him—he wasn’t exactly sure he could put more than a few words together at the moment, much less vocalize them. He was still holding on to Xander, though, and that was all that mattered.

Some time later—a couple of minutes? Ten? Thirty?— he registered that his head had lolled on to Xander’s shoulder. There was a candle lit by their bedside and Xander was propped up on several pillows reading a book. If he glanced down he could have read along with him, but that was the last thought in his mind.

“Xander?” he whispered, his voice rough and dry. The other man glanced in his direction, meeting his eye briefly before setting the book aside. Ryoma felt more pillows being placed behind him for support as he sat up. Without a word, Xander handed him a glass of water from the side table—one he gratefully accepted. After gulping down its contents, Ryoma could finally say he felt something like awake.

“Hey,” Xander said softly, taking the empty glass from him, “You all there?”

He leaned into Xander’s touch when the other man began running a hand slowly through his hair. “Yeah, I…I don’t know what came over me.”

“It could be night terrors; Leo and Elise used to get them, though never that intense,” Xander suggested, “Were you dreaming of anything?”

Ryoma had to stop and think on that. The scenes of the dream escaped him, but the lingering sentiment of feelings remained. Shock, anger, betrayal, horror, mourning. Maybe it was better that he didn’t remember most of it.

“I dreamt that you died,” he should have said it more gently, he regretted his words when terror flashed across Xander’s face, but he couldn’t find any other way to put it, “You died and I did nothing to save you.”

The shock was evident on Xander’s features as he broke eye contact with Ryoma, glancing away to recompose himself, “I’m…so sorry. That must have been horrifying for you.”

“It wasn’t your fault…” Ryoma shook his head, “It was mine, I think. Or maybe someone else…I can’t remember.”

Xander leaned in close and pressed a kiss to his temple, “Don’t worry yourself; it’s not worth remembering,” he said, pulling Ryoma over to his side of the bed and back against his chest.

The familiar warmth and scent of Xander enveloping him sent tingles down his spine as he started to drift back off. “But I could have saved you…” Ryoma let his eyes slip closed.

“There are thousands of possible paths our lives could have taken up to this point,” Xander said, speaking slowly, “We could have led our countries to oblivion, or prosperity, or anywhere in between, but I think we ended up doing pretty well. You can’t throw your life away on ‘what if’, my love.”

Xander could tell the sound of his voice was lulling Ryoma to sleep, and kept speaking, “And know this: I have confidence in you. I would trust you with my life every day, and I know that, given the chance, you would never stand by and watch me suffer. I know that you will always come to my rescue, and I to yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love to see Ryoma comforting Xander but Ryoma definitely deserves some tlc once in a while you feel
> 
> Ryoma is experiencing something called [sleep paralysis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_paralysis) here, which is an experience in which the body is still asleep (REM sleep) but the mind is awake, leading to symptoms like the inability to move or speak, difficulty breathing, and the feeling that someone is sitting on your chest or strangling you(which plays a part in the difficulty breathing).
> 
> [My tumblr](http://ferix-writes.tumblr.com/)


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